We Don't Talk Anymore
by Dragons and Otters
Summary: ONESHOT: Hermione Granger never knew something was missing in her life, not until Draco Malfoy decided to stop being a git and befriended her in fourth year. But it's sixth year now, and they don't talk anymore like they used to do. Dramione; EWE; generally follows canon through the Battle of Hogwarts.


A/N: I saw a post on Tumblr asking for a Dramione drabble based off the song "We Don't Talk Anymore" by Charlie Puth (ft. Selena Gomez), and that inspired me for some reason even though I don't particularly like the song. Some may find Draco in the story following to be OOC, please note that for this story to be concise, I didn't go into explicit detail about how Draco came to be this way, but I used the fact that Scorpius exists as a jumping off point for what Draco would act like if he chose to let his guard down. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy the story!

•••

" _We don't talk anymore like we used to do. We don't love anymore. What was all of it for? Oh, we don't talk anymore, like we used to do..."_

Hermione Granger was lost in the book laid out on the table in front of her. She couldn't tell you what the time was or how long she'd been sitting in the Library. Harry and Ron thought she was crazy (what else was new?) studying so much at the start of term. In sixth year, after all, there were no OWLs or NEWTs to worry about, but she wasn't going to let her studying get away with her either.

She barely noticed someone glide by her, she might not have, in fact, if the familiar smell of Draco Malfoy hadn't wafted through the air around them. Hermione felt her stomach do an uncomfortably deep flip-flop as her chocolate brown eyes met steel grey ones.

Instead of the familiarity she was used to seeing reflected in his eyes, she saw nothing — actually, she saw worse than nothing. Draco's eyes held a certain sadness, but also an astonishing lack of recognition stared back at her in that fleeting moment.

•••

 _For her first few years at Hogwarts, Draco was the bane of Hermione's existence. Whenever he showed up, Hermione knew she was about to be accosted by the ignorance and stupidity of the prepubescent, pureblooded, brainwashed heir to the biggest fortune in Wizarding Britain._

 _But at the Quidditch World Cup before fourth year, everything changed. Sure, when he warned her, Ron and Harry that the Death Eaters were coming after muggles and that she was a target, he sounded like a prat. But for the first time, Hermione saw something in his expression — something real — something that resembled concern and fear._

" _Hermione," the sound of her name falling from the lips of the Slytherin prince almost kept her from turning around. Surely, he must be talking to someone else. Draco Malfoy called her_ Granger, mudblood, bushy-haired freak _, pretty much anything other than her first name._

"Hermione _," this was more of a hiss, a demand to turn around and pay attention. And for some reason, she actually did. When she turned to face him, she saw someone much different from the Malfoy of her childhood._

 _The blonde boy stood before her with sagging shoulders and pleading eyes. "Hermione," he breathed her name like a prayer. "You're alright."_

 _Hermione looked around, fully expecting a gang of Slytherins to jump out from behind a corner and start laughing at her for believing Draco Malfoy actually wanted to talk to her. "And why wouldn't I be?"_

 _Draco frowned slightly and glanced down at his feet before looking back at her. "I— I haven't seen you since the World Cup."_

" _Oh, you mean when your father and his buddies traumatized a bunch of muggles, wreaked havoc at an otherwise wonderful event and then slithered away like scared little snakes when the actual Dark Mark showed up in the sky?" As Hermione talked, she grew angrier and angrier, her hand placed sternly on her hip. Draco stood silently and accepted her berating with slow nods._

" _Look," he said, finally — after she'd finished and let out a huff, "I know I've been a right git to you since we were 11 —" Hermione snorted. "— but I grew up my whole life hearing these things about people like you, and I just believed it. Of course I did, my parents mean everything to me, and I looked up to them."_

 _Draco fidgeted with his hands as he spoke, breathing shallowly. "I know this sounds crazy, and why would I be talking to you, and you have no reason to believe me, but I just — as stupid as this is — thought about it as fun and games… And now…now, I don't know, it's not. It's real, and it's wrong. And — and, Hermione, I'm sorry for how I've treated you."_

 _That apology brought about a type of friendship that Hermione had never known before. Harry and Ron, for all of their protective brotherly love and inside jokes, were footnotes in her thoughts compared to Draco. The Slytherin could follow her monologues about advanced runes or the theory behind complex transfiguration. He not only could follow her, but match her in the thirst for knowledge. He brought out witty sarcasm in her, and she brought out empathy and compassion in him._

 _They met secretly in the Library, the dungeons, dark corners on the fifth floor, on the edge of the Forbidden Forrest, the Room of Requirement. They sent letters back and forth using borrowed owls over the holidays. Soon, Hermione couldn't imagine her life before Draco was a part of it and couldn't imagine what her life would be like if they were ever torn apart._

 _She never told Harry and Ron, knowing they wouldn't understand that Draco hadn't really changed, he had never truly believed what he spouted their first three years to begin with. He was bratty, sure, being the only child of the wealthiest family in Wizarding Britain, but the more he saw of his father's dealings in the dark arts, the more he moved toward the light._

 _When Harry came out of the maze with Cedric Diggory's dead body yelling about Voldemort's return, her first thought was for her childhood friend, but her second thought was for Draco. When she looked around the stands and found him, he was paler than she'd ever seen him, like he was about to be ill. He stared at her, and she could see the fear in his features as plain as day. Her heart broke for him as hard as it did for Harry, Cedric's family, the Order and the rest of the Wizarding World._

 _The letters stopped that summer. Hermione, while attempting to keep the Weasleys out of trouble and gain intel from Order meetings and keep Harry from breaking more laws at the Dursleys, laid awake at night tossing and turning and worrying her fingernails to the quick about Draco._

" _He's living in my house, Hermione," Draco whispered as he shuddered even against the warmth of the fire in the Room of Requirement._

 _Hermione furrowed her brow, frowning, and pulled closer to him. She wrapped a petite arm around his broadening shoulders and nuzzled her face in his neck. He smelled of leather and expensive, subtle cologne and_ man _. As afraid as they both were, she found comfort as his arms wrapped around her waist._

" _I'm so sorry, Draco," she murmured as he rubbed his face against her soft curls. Hermione looked up to check his expression and found herself nose to nose with her childhood enemy. Her heart stopped for a moment and then started thudding against her rib cage like it was frantically trying to escape. She searched his face for any sign of disgust or humor and found none as his lips inched closer to hers. And then they were kissing; she couldn't tell who'd initiated it. His lips gently danced against hers as he tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her closer. She whimpered as his tongue darted out, gliding across her lower lip. Their mouths parted for each other in tandem as the kiss deepened._

 _Draco pulled her onto his lap, and she straddled him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pushing her body flush against his. Hermione couldn't tell you what time it was or how long they'd spent kissing, but when they finally pulled apart and Draco rested his forehead against hers and stared at her like she was the most perfect thing he'd ever laid eyes on, for the first time in her life, Hermione Granger felt the equally exciting and frightening realization that she was falling in love._

•••

" _Now I can't get you out of my brain. Oh, it's such a shame."_

"We don't talk anymore," Draco heard Hermione's barely audible whisper as he passed her in the Library. He knew she'd be here, but he needed a book from the Restricted Section, and there was no way of avoiding her.

"No," he replied, his voice clipped. "And as far as I'm concerned, we never did."

His breath hitched, though his face displayed no emotion, as his gaze traveled back to her face. She was always so easy to read, but after two years of spending as much time with her as possible, he could see even the nuanced emotions in her eyes. Hermione was hurt, possibly heartbroken, betrayed, angry.

•••

 _After fifth year, again, he hadn't been able to communicate with her over the summer. The Dark Lord living in your house made it much harder and more dangerous to sneak around, after all._

 _When he was forced to take the mark and given his task, he knew that Hermione would never speak to him again once she found out what he'd done and what he would attempt in their sixth year. As The Dark Lord's wand burned his skin and the Dark Mark seared his arm and his soul, he thought of her. Of her laugh, her warm, brown eyes, her lips, the way she sighed contentedly mid-kiss. He thought of the way her body fit perfectly into the hills and valleys of his own and the way she looked at him when she wanted to touch him, but they were in public. He thought of the way she loved him fiercely, and he loved her right back. He started crying before he ever started screaming._

 _Draco awoke the morning after with his mother at his bedside. She looked like she hadn't slept. Narcissa placed her hands around her son's and smiled weakly at him._

" _You have to let her go."_

 _His heart swelled in his chest. How did she know? Did she really know what he thought she knew?_

" _Mother…"_

" _Draco, I know about the mudblood girl."_

" _Please don't call her that," Draco ground out._

 _Narcissa's smile flattened, and she lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry. It's habit, of course. And a good one to keep up considering our present company. This is something we must see through to the end. Your father has indebted us to this … this … man. And you are putting her at an even greater risk by loving her."_

 _He wiped angrily at his eyes. Though Narcissa was one of the only people on Earth to ever see him cry, Draco still hated it. He hated feeling weak._

 _Draco nodded finally as he sniffled. "Fine," he all but spat, "but promise me something?"_

 _Narcissa nodded._

" _We bring an end to Dolohov."_

 _Narcissa hugged him carefully, avoiding his bandaged arm, and patted his back. "Of course. That's my good boy."_

•••

" _I just heard you found the one you've been looking for. I wish I would have known that wasn't me. Cause even after all this time, I still wonder why I can't move on just the way you did so easily."_

Hermione watched in awe as Tom Marvolo Riddle's body fell to the floor in a heap. For someone who lived like he would be one of The Greats, he died as ungracefully as any common man. As Death Eaters began to disapparate, others captured, and the Order attempted to respectively collect the dead, Hermione comforted Ron. She didn't know what would happen between them after their kiss in the Chamber of Secrets and knowing that the war was _finally_ over, but she wanted to be there for him as he mourned the loss of his brother. Hermione's heart felt like it might crack and fall apart into a million pieces at the sight of all the death and despair. People she knew and loved, people she'd only ever seen in passing, and the _children_. She wouldn't admit it, but she spared a thought for the platinum blonde-headed boy she once knew.

As if he could read her mind, he appeared suddenly and looked directly at her. She saw him see her hand intertwined with Ron's and the way their bodies were slanted every so slightly toward each other. She saw the look in his eyes, but she couldn't place it because she couldn't let herself hope that he still felt the way he had all those years ago.

•••

 _It was dark when Hermione woke up in the Hospital Wing. She felt as if her body had been sliced apart at the middle with a sword. She clutched her side and winced. The curtains around her bed were drawn, but that didn't mean she was alone. Hermione felt the warmth from another body against her waist. Draco's head was resting against her as he slept, his arm flailed over the side of the bed as he had fallen asleep holding her hand._

 _He awoke when he felt her stir, and his eyes welled with tears as he saw her awake and breathing. "Hey," he whispered. Despite, the silencing charms he'd put around her bed, he didn't want to risk waking her injured friends._

" _Hey," she whispered back, though her quietness was due more to the fact she had very little strength._

" _I thought you were going to die."_

 _Hermione found his hand and slipped hers within it, smiling weakly. "Water?"_

" _Oh, yeah," he conjured a glass for her and watched her closely as she drank._

" _Draco, I'm so sorry," she began once the liquid had cooled her throat, but he shushed her._

" _You did what you needed to do, Hermione, I'm just…," he cleared his throat, trying to prevent a complete sobbing breakdown. "I'm just so glad you're alright." Draco's gaze found her bandaged chest, and his jaw tightened. "Who did this to you?"_

 _Hermione shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Your father —"_

" _I know about my father, and, frankly, he deserves it. I'd throw a party if it weren't for Mother being so upset," Draco laughed coldly before suddenly straightening up. "My father, he didn't…?"_

" _No, no, it wasn't him," Hermione replied quietly, shaking her head. But Draco wasn't convinced, and she knew he wouldn't be until she shared who had cursed her._

 _She sighed and closed her eyes, bring two fingers to the bridge of her nose and squeezing gently. "It was Dolohov. We don't know what curse he used, but we think it would've been lethal if I hadn't silenced him and forced him to cast the spell nonverbally."_

 _Draco's jaw twitched, and his eyes hardened. "It's OK," Hermione murmured sleepily. "I'm alright. Everything is fine. Please don't do anything stupid."_

 _Hermione's eyes started fluttering as her eyelids grew heavier. Draco smiled at her, running his free hand through her hair to cup her cheek. "You should sleep. But, before you do, there's something I need to tell you."_

 _At Hermione's questioning look, Draco carefully maneuvered himself so that he could place a soft kiss against her lips. "I love you, Hermione."_

•••

" _Every now and then I think you might want me to come show up at your door, but I'm just too afraid that I'll be wrong."_

Two years after the war, Hermione was starting to get her life back together. Though Voldemort was dead, Wizarding Britain was in desperate need of emotional repair, and Hogwarts was in need of physical repair. While Hermione poured herself into the work of bringing order back to what was once chaos, she and Ron found it harder and harder to pretend their relationship was more than a we're-probably-about-to-die-fling. Hermione loved Ron, and Ron loved Hermione; but they couldn't bridge the gap between love and in love.

It had been hard watching her personal life go up in smoke as the Wizarding World was slowly finding a new normal. It had been even harder when Draco Malfoy began working on the same floor as she at the Ministry. Though they never had to work together, they spent many lift rides in total silence.

There were many nights when, upon finally leaving and seeing Draco's office light still on, she considered barging in and demanding to know what in the bloody hell had happened between them and where he got off telling a girl he loved her and then completely ignoring her almost immediately after. She also wanted to run into his office and fling herself into his arms. But then she thought of the silent rides to and from their offices, the cold slate of his face that no longer revealed emotions, even to her. And while she also thought about the look he gave her after the Battle of Hogwarts, she couldn't bring herself to get over the fear that his feelings for her had all been some elaborate prank for his entertainment. Some Gryffindor she was.

Now, she found herself sitting alone at a bar, outlasting even Harry Potter, who'd become quite the drinker since alleviating the weight of the Wizarding World from his shoulders. She worried about it sometimes but figured she'd let him have his fun as long as he continued being the best Auror in the business.

She swirled her firewhisky around in the glass, listening to the clinking of the ice as she stared down at the amber liquid. Hermione usually tried not to ever let her thoughts wander into "what if" territory, but after a couple of drinks — and now that she was alone — she couldn't help but sit at the bar and daydream about what her childhood, what her love life, might have been like if Voldemort never existed.

An hour went by and she'd politely declined far too many offers from scraggly men looking to buy the most famous muggleborn in history and war heroine a drink. She threw back the last of her firewhisky and grabbed her purse so she could pay her tab.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Though the voice sounded familiar, the question immediately brought a "no thank you" to her lips. But before she could say anything, she looked up from her purse to see Draco.

He smirked at her, and his face held more emotion than she'd seen on him since fifth year. "Hey," he said softly.

Hermione wanted to throw the ice left in her glass in his face. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to hex him. She wanted to hug him. She wanted to kiss him. Her emotions swirled around in her head so quickly she couldn't pick one that felt right.

She took a deep breath and stared at him, willing him to betray his true intentions somehow. Hermione bit her lower lip as she studied him. "Hey," she responded, finally, gesturing her hand toward the empty seat next to her.


End file.
